


Aid

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 12:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7802035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindir’s taken captive by foul orcs, and Elrond rushes to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Honeypan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeypan/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for yhoneypan’s “Lindir is captured by orcs and Elrond rescues him” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s dismounting the second they find the cave that must be it—it reeks of orc with an array of animal bones outside. Elrond storms inside without heed of Glorfindel’s calls, his party already on the move after him—they don’t have time for caution. He knows it can’t be a large group hidden inside, as he knows these caves won’t fit much, and they stormed through like cowards in the night, raiding the small campsite just beyond the gates of Elrond’s home.

The rest of his people made it out, but they took one captive, and he’ll make them pay dearly for it. The first orc that rushes out at him, caught by surprising and then roaring in rage, he slays with one stroke of his sword. Glorfindel’s arrows fly past him to fell two more, and the remaining eight orcs that sit by the fire hurry to their feet and weapons, one at the back pausing in its business. It faces the prize Elrond came for—he kills two more orcs in his drive through. 

The orc that stands in Elrond’s way runs past him, arcing beyond reach of his sword, and he lets it go—he can already hear his sons and Glorfindel taking care of the rest. He has eyes only for the shivering elf that remains bound to the cave wall, frail wrists cuffed in heavy chains above his head. They’re bolted into the rock, suspending poor Lindir just enough that he has to stand on the tips of his toes. He’s sobbing profusely, as Elrond feared he would, his normally pristine hair a ragged mess and his lavender robes torn across his shoulders. His wrists are strained, bruised pink beneath the cuffs, his pale skin streaked with dirt and his cheeks lined with tears. The sound of Lindir’s cries wrack Elrond’s chest as he slams his sword against the chains. Another three strokes, and they clatter apart, tumbling over Lindir’s head. Lindir makes a weak noise and plummets forward—Elrond’s quick to catch him. 

“We have all of them,” Glorfindel calls from back near the mouth of the cave, and Elrond takes it as a sign to drop his sword, using two hands instead to guide his quivering assistant down. His steel deserves better, but Lindir deserves _everything_ , and Elrond gives him full attention, weaving one soothing hand back through his hair and drawing him close with the other arm. Lindir sniffles and curls into Elrond’s body.

“You are safe,” Elrond promises, though he can only hope it’s true. He tugs lightly at the ripped holes in Lindir’s robes, not wanting to unduly expose Lindir but needing to check for damage. Lindir hunches his shoulders together, head falling, but each patch Elrond examines is only dirtied, not torn. Elrond slips one glove-laden hand beneath Lindir’s chin to lift it, forcing Lindir to meet his eyes. He asks, calm but stern, “Are you hurt?” It was the logic of bringing their healer along, though Erestor protested sending out their lord on a hunting mission. Elrond couldn’t have stayed behind.

Lindir shakes his pretty head and sniffs, then rubs his delicate fingers at his eyes and sobs, “It is just so... so _dirty!_ ” He lets out a horrible wail and throws himself into Elrond’s arms, burying his wet face into the crook of Elrond’s shoulder. Elrond could almost laugh with relief. He pets his poor assistant instead, cooing soothing noises and rubbing Lindir’s back the way Elrond knows he likes to be touched. Before long, Lindir’s sobs have subsided enough for him to withdraw again, sniffing and mumbling, “I am sorry, my lord, I am so sorry.” He scrubs at his eyes, and Elrond lifts his hand to help, though the leather over his thumb isn’t much cleaner. Lindir makes a choked noise anyway and gives Elrond a tentative but heartfelt smile. 

A second later, he wilts, looking down at Elrond to whine, “Oh, but they stained your best armour!” He looks unduly troubled by the prospect and hurriedly grabs at his own robes to start scrubbing the dark orc blood off Elrond’s purple breastplate. Apparently Lindir cares for Elrond’s cleanliness more than his own. 

For a minute or two, Elrond lets Lindir vainly scrub at the mess. Then, as Lindir putters out, still trembling, Elrond murmurs, “Shhh,” and kisses his forehead. Lindir bites his bottom lip, nods, and stops trying to right everything. 

Elrond first sheaths his sword, then carefully rearranges Lindir to scoop him up. Lindir clings to Elrond’s neck and mumbles into him, “Sorry,” but Elrond just kisses him again and keeps moving. 

At the mouth of the cave, his horse waits. His party gives Lindir worried looks, but Elrond assures them, “He’s just messy.” Glorfindel nods tightly, and Elrohir looks like he’s going to laugh, Elladan pointedly kicking him in the boot. Elrond takes Lindir onto his own horse and carries him home, where Lindir pulls them both into a bath that would put Ulmo to shame.


End file.
